Saiom Shriver

Gold Star - 21,196 Points (Ohio)

10 Mother Earth - Poem by Saiom Shriver

Sunwands turn rain droplets into blackberry drupelets
as enkindled okra seeds acknowledge heliocracy.
When God greengrows it's rarely in rows... awry the rye rises...unruly
the rose
Each night the tree of nut out of naught knits neat nuts
and will time soon not sever the nut tree knot?
The bee's favorite couplet: sunupbrimming buttercuplet
From the plane, one sees above the clouds' chemtrails
.. lines of Sanskrit...
as he walked along, he saw a
slain dandelion with grey locks
and blew the down of the mower victim
that there be new fluffy flower flocks
The tree branches God has joined together let no one cleave asunder.
The animal limbs God has joined together let
no meatcutter cleave asunder.
April is aproned with apricot blooms.
Because the wind rustled blooming fruit trees
they released their fresh fragrance into the breeze
Only the jasmine plant has a right to string garlands of
its blooms.
April is the most fragile month, when tender jade tenrils
can be crushed by unconscious boots
Why has God his dew morngift sent?
For cider, butterfly drinks,
for lilac and jasmine scent
The fen way becomes a fern way, finely traced fans of
jade.. waving in the wind.
The fruit tree oer the brook drops her free food into the
waters... the fish bob for apples
Those depressing stormclouds grey... wand the world to green
The orange tree... a green galaxy with many blazing
saffron sunorbs
The morning sun does the throat of lark spur and blue the meadows
with sweetest larkspur
While elsewhere the sun, universal lover,
has knit a new cover, of purplest clover, all the field over
Most can from the apple tree pick spies
but only God can pluck blazing stars from the skies
Like the beloved in a canoe paddled by her love is
the willow tree trailing her lacy fingers in the lake
When the naturalist who defines plants as wild edibles
comes around, do the plants shiver and shake, quiver and quake?
Some find peace most in the mountains. Some find peace
most at the sea. And some find peace most
in the mountains oer the sea.
Only newfallen laurel leaves in Wilbur's laureate wreaths
for he takes only what Mother Earth gently bequeaths
Within each acorn cloak are infinite oaks.
Inch across the yard the bright rays of dawn
Striking magic wands cause flowers in the lawns.
In the foothills of the Apennines old olive trees with grapes vined...make violet orbs of olivine... we think
of this in LA at Olive and Vine
Because he wanted Pennsylvania: both the silva and the pencil
he decided from nonwood to make his pencils.
*Guarding the sea's blue peace....are the brave souls of Greenpeace
silva: forest in Latin

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Poem Edited: Friday, June 27, 2008

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